Lyoko-FX
by Jade Tea
Summary: We are only human. Mortal humans bound by the limits of temporary bodies. But we have fought for nearly a century against the one called X.A.N.A. The first heroes have long since fallen into legend, only His Excellency remains. But we are the best in the business. [con't]


**Another co-writing. Code Lyoko this time. **

**Full Summary: We are only human. Mortal humans bound by the limits of temporary bodies. But we have fought for nearly a century against the one called X.A.N.A. The first heroes have long since fallen into legend, only His Excellency remains. But we are the best in the business. Giving us the secrets to why X.A.N.A won all those years ago and sending us back in time to hopefully prevent it is only the start, His Excellency hopes to prevent our future. But X.A.N.A's sent some of his most horrible creations back to stop us, and ensure his victory day happens. We are running out of time, and one moment could prove to be our undoing.  
**

**WARNING(s): Post apocalyptic world, concepts such as fighting, war, death, isolation, children warriors, time travel, painful social awkwardness, violent personality tendencies, mental problems such as minor sociopathy, uncaring cruelty, and unhesitating harming of another person, dark humor and some mild swearing may be mentioned, included, alluded too or obviously included in this story. **

**Code Lyoko is not mine. Unrecognizable characters, monsters, programs and add-ons to cannon items are mine as is the plot. Assumptions made on the part of the cannon characters made using things alluded to in episodes and natural assumptions based on the character's names and behaviors. **

**Enjoy, **

**Jade Tea**

The world was in ruin.

The sky burned with poison and fire, and the distant sound of gears grinding and guns shooting was an almost ignorable background noise against a foreground of skeletal remains, both organic and technologic. Shrapnel covered most of the dirt now, and plant life was something he sometimes imagined that he remembered. It seemed like some unearthly nightmare, a page from a science fiction novel, this world of blood and metal. There was oil, acid, wires and glass in the water; poison, smoke and ash covered the sky to where even the sun was a drop of blood through the black clouds. The air was thick with the smell of burning plastics and decomposing flesh, it was stagnant and made him want to throw up. The wind picked up, sending the scent from a nearby burning body pile his direction, drowning his lungs in the toxic scent. He coughed hard, one hand leaning on his cane for dear life as he coughed and wheezed.

Had it truly been so long? He mused quietly to himself for a few moments. It really had been such a long time; he vaguely remembered that his birthday had been a month ago, making him the age of one hundred. But that brought another question to his mind, why did he keep checking the calendar? Time was almost meaningless now, marked only by the sun rising over another broken battlefield and it setting over another sleepless night of fighting off the living nightmares. It seemed to just all blend into one large day that never seemed to end, one day lasting eighty-five years. But that calendar made him remember a time before all this had happened, when he was still human and still had such human dreams. And friends, back when he had friends, such wonderful friends. Their memories were now red circles on his calendar now, circling the days they were born so he could set aside that day in some futile attempt to get lost in his old-man memories, hoping that one day his computer enemy would take a rest on those days and not litter his mental wanderings with the deaths of more of those under him. It was nothing more than a foolish ideal, an unlikely hope clouding his mind on those days. But yet, he could not bring himself to get rid of the calendar.

He coughed again, the thick ash in the air wreaking havoc on his fragile lungs. His body weakly shook, as he clutched his cane tightly.

"Your Excellency?" The voice of a young girl behind him made him turn and look, eye watering behind the thick black frames of his glasses. She gasped and rushed forward to help the fragile-looking old man off the standing point he was on and out of the wind's venomous path. "Your Excellency! You shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous for you." She gently reminded as she helped him towards the entrance of the Underground. The shaky old man sent her a half-hearted smile and laughed, the noise grating and dry. "Lisa," He said, his voice rusty with age and exposure to the elements of the dying world, "why are you out here, little one? Ah, never mind. Please escort me to my room, I need to summon the FX." He said as she led him down the pitch corridors to the Underground, sealing the hidden entrance behind her. She nodded nervously and looked up at her leader.

"The FX, your Excellency? But why?" She asked. "Is there a crisis at hand?" She asked again. She knew, as all Underground fighters knew, the FX were only sent out when a crisis too hard for any other team arose. They were the best of the best, as well as the most isolated. The withered old man next to her coughed again and took in a shaky breath. "I suppose you could say that." He muttered mysteriously. She looked up at him and tilted her head. "Sire?" She asked and he shook his head, the movement clearly hurting him as his winkled face contorted into a wince. She stopped him and stood in front of him. "Sire, you look sick." She commented. It was true; his face was hollow and pale, eyes sunken into a face nearly totally covered in wrinkles and calluses. The face of an old warrior, she mused. His eyes, blue as she always remembered, seemed to the only part of his body that was still bright and young as ever. The old man chuckled and ran a shaky hand through the wisps of silver hair that seemed to float on his head. "Yes, Lisa. I know." He said quietly as he continued to slowly move further into the Underground.

Lisa guided him through the tunnels until they reached the infamous Underground of the Lyoko- F, the Lyoko Fighters. Sheets of metal were lifted up and tilted against poles in makeshift tents and coverings that kept the rocks and dust from falling on the fighters as they slept. Very little technology was here, only inanimate metal and the torn parts of robots that had invaded, and been destroyed. Bits and pieces of the Higher Technology lay in the sand like fossils, some were in piles to be used for forging, and other pieces were taken apart to make non-sentient machines. The fighters were not an organized bunch in appearance. Clothing was clean enough, since they had a spring deeper in to wash their clothes in, but outward body care took a backseat to training, working and keeping the inside healthy. They looked very much like refugees, but instead of defending their metal tents with sticks and rocks, most of them had guns taken off the arms of slain robots. Weapons were cleaned daily, the priority over their own physical washing, and always at hand. Invasions were common here. All the people looked up at the bent figure with respect in their eyes. They bowed their heads and choruses of 'Your Excellency' filled the air as the old man staggered past. He gave them a nod but kept his focus forward, the young girl at his side helping him stay erect.

Eventually they reached the inner halls, where the specialist teams stayed and trained. They did not look out, most likely all in training, but the pair did not stop there. They carefully made their way to the innermost sanctum. Inside was the most sophisticated computer, next to the one they were fighting anyway. And there was a chair, a chair that the old man slowly sat down on and sighed. "Thank you, Lisa. You may go now." He dismissed with a bony hand. The girl bowed and left without another word. The man used his bony hands to start up the chair's connection to the main computer system and before his eyes came a screen floating in mid air. He sighed and typed onto the floating keyboard made of light and hologram as he accessed various programs and data. "So far into the future." He muttered. "So many advances, yet we have taken no step forward." He said softly as he lifted his hand to swipe at the viewing screen to get more information. He finally typed in the need for a connection and right before his eyes a screen popped up. A small boy, no more than ten or eleven blinked into the screen.

"You called, Your Excellency?" His voice was pre-pubescent and light. Yet below was a tone of careful calculation. He knew very well what the call was for. The old man nodded. "Have the team come and meet me." He said in a tired voice. "We need to discuss some things." The boy nodded carefully. "How soon, Your Excellency?" He asked, patiently waiting for the answer. The old man tapped a finger against his chin for a moment before smiling crookedly. "Now." He said before the boy hung up. He swiped the chatting screen away like one would swat away an insect and went back to typing. His movements were slow and purposeful, he was getting old. Each year his glasses were thickened and he was fed artificial energy into his body through an input cable that connected to his heart. The fighters had long kept him alive passed his expiration date, and he decided that his life was meaningless without this last attempt at defeating his life-long enemy.

A security screen came up and the blinking blue curser eagerly awaited the input of the user's name and the program to be searched for. The old man sighed and licked his lips before typing very carefully, each letter one at a time.

J-E-R-E-M-Y [space] B-E-L-P-O-I-S

[enter]

R-E-T-U-R-N [space] T-O [space] T-H-E [space] P-A-S-T

[enter]

A-D-V-A-N-C-E-D [space] P-R-O-G-R-A-M [space] 6


End file.
